BubbleStream

Arlene Hittle

Diva In The Dugout

Synopsis

After a successful stint in drug rehab, Dave is still trying to outrun his bad boy reputation. When the team’s new owners tell him to shape up or be fired at season’s end, he vows to change. He doesn’t count on fatherhood playing a part in his transformation.
Melinda Cline makes a rash decision: take solace in the arms of a sexy-as-sin ballplayer whose name she insists she doesn’t want to know. Big mistake. Now a single mom to a four-year-old, Mel strives to live as quietly and cleanly as possible. But fate intervenes and she comes face to face with the man who insists on being included in their daughter’s life. The attraction between them is still strong, but it may not survive Dave’s reputation or his attempts to do the right thing.
Can the Condors’ bad boy step up to the plate and knock out a home run for fatherhood? And if he does, will his daughter’s mamma be ready?

Author Biography

Arlene Hittle is a Midwestern transplant who now makes her home in northern Arizona. She suffers from the well-documented Hittle family curse of being a Cubs fan but will root for the Diamondbacks until they run up against the Cubs. Longtime friends are amazed she writes books with sports in them, since she's about as coordinated as a newborn giraffe and used to say marching band required more exertion than golf. Find her at arlenehittle.com, on Twitter (@arlenehittle) or on Facebook (Arlene Hittle, Author).

Author Insight

In honor of Father's Day...

For all those Dads out there, new and old, I thought it'd be fun to share this snippet from the first day Dave meets his little girl. He, Tara and Tara's mother go to a Chuck E. Cheese-type place after his game. The two of them are playing skee ball when Dave checks his watch and decides it's time to go back to the table to eat. But 4-year-old Tara insists on washing up first—and wants him to take her. Dave, completely out of his depth, does the best he can…with hysterical results.

Book Excerpt

Diva In The Dugout

He spotted the “restrooms” sign on the far wall and headed that way, Tara in tow. He stopped mid-stride and Tara smacked into his leg. Was he supposed to take her into the men’s bathroom?

“Maybe your mom should take you.”

She shook her head. “You.”

“You’re a girl.”

Tara frowned. “So?”

“So I can’t go in your bathroom.”

“I’ll go in yours.”

The more Dave considered that, the worse it sounded. What if someone else was at the urinal? His little girl wouldn’t see some stranger’s equipment on his watch. “No way.”

Her lip started to stick out. Dave gulped. Was that the pout or the beginning of an honest-to-god fit? He didn’t want to find out.

“We’ll use yours.” He grabbed her hand again as she made a beeline for the bathrooms.

His relief was palpable when presented with a third option, the “family” restroom. He pushed on the door, but it didn’t budge.

Crap. There went the easy out.

Tara started for the women’s bathroom. “Gotta go.”

“You can’t wait until this one’s open?”

“Now.”

With a shake of her head and stamp of her foot, Tara walked into the women’s restroom. Dave had no choice. It was either follow her or let her go by herself. She was still too young for that, right?

He glanced around guiltily and then slipped through the door.

Thank God it was empty. “You can go by yourself?”

“Yes, Daddy.” She disappeared into the stall and soon he heard a tinkling noise.

Eeew. He felt creepy listening to someone pee—even if that someone was his daughter. He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall, wondering if his pizza was getting cold. As he contemplated the horrors of congealed cheese, the door swung open and thunked his shoulder.

“Eeeee—”

A kid ran back out of the room, screaming. “Mommy, there’s a man in the bathroom!”

Uh-oh. That couldn’t be good. “Tara, you almost done?”

“Uh-huh.”

He heard a flush and she came out of the stall still pulling up her shorts. At the same time, the bathroom door opened again and a burly guy in a Pizza Palace uniform glowered at him.

“What’s going on in here?” the big guy demanded. His nametag declared him to be Chuck.

Dave yanked his hands out of his pockets. He needn’t have bothered. He didn’t look any less creepy. He was still a grown man in the women’s restroom—and this time he wasn’t there for a quickie with some hot chick he’d just met.